Currently
"MacGyver," Mathilda called as she carefully made her way across rubble. She had no idea what had happened to her shoes. She had them on before the explosion ripped through the building. "Angus!" Maybe using his first name would get an answer, was her logic – but it didn't help.
She stopped when she stepped on something that poked her foot. The room was battered and felt expansive because the walls had been blown out. She froze. Her heart skipped beats. Her breath caught in her throat.
She saw black fabric near the back wall. Scrambling carefully, she made her way over to it. Yes. It was black fabric buried under chunks of building materials. Hastily, she started moving debris, uncovering a leg, then two, then a waist – until she had cleared as much as she could off MacGyver.
She could see bone through a couple tears in his suit jacket and pants. A bruise ran down the left side of his face. Blood had run from his nose and ears before drying on his face and hair. His right hand was one swollen purple-blue bruise. She wanted to believe that this was the worst of his injuries, but she knew his body may be hiding worse inside. She reached a shaking hand out, picked up his wrist, and searched for a heartbeat. Relief washed over her when she found his heart beating strong.
"Mac, wake up," she began to repeat, gently shaking him or patting his face.
Mathilda was moving closer when her knee slid into something cold and wet. She pulled back, looking down. Next to him, blood had pooled on some rubble and was slowly dripping off it. He was bleeding from somewhere on his back. Mathilda reached under him, trying to follow the blood. Her fingers found something cold and metal there. Her fingers followed the metal up until she touched his body and blood-soaked material. She felt the metal again, trying to decide what it was. What she touched her brain described as a thin piece of rebar about a half-inch in diameter. Under him, it was attached to cold stone or cement. She pulled her hand out and pulled his shirt up. The rebar had torn through his skin, but maybe it wasn't deep enough to cause internal bleeding or damage organs.
Tears began welling up in her eyes. "I am so sorry, Mac. I'm so sorry." She gently put his shirt down and wiped the blood on her dress. She allowed a few more tears to fall before pulling herself together.
"You'll be okay." She nodded, then turned to look at the destruction – and tears began choking her. "We'll get out of here," she whispered. "Somehow."